


A Dame at the Beach

by Weavillain



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Beach Sex, F/M, Humor, Lemon, POV Second Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weavillain/pseuds/Weavillain
Summary: You don’t think that there’s anything left for you to enjoy at the beach. And even if there was, the last thing you thought it’d be would be a short-tempered woman’s recipe for revenge.And yet, here you are.





	A Dame at the Beach

You honestly don't know which sight you find more beautiful—the crystal waters of the beach or the soft blue hue of late Summer's cloudless skies that hover over your head. Either way, you're smack dab in the middle of absolute paradise, even as rowdy beachgoers pass you by and the squawking of seagulls makes for quite the commotion.

Yeah, there could be a little less noise and it could be a little less hot, but who are you to gripe and grumble at such minor details? The fact of the matter is, as you lay on your soft beach blanket and watch the lively surroundings from under your large parasol, that this slice of heaven has been a _loooooong_ time coming—the vacation perks of a cozy retail position truly are a blessing.

You don't like to flaunt or brag, but you didn't become the assistant manager of Reininger's in just two years from nothing. You put in the work, along with the sound advice of your dear mother, to get you where you are today. It also helped that the success story of one of the most prominent, global voices of fashion and former sales employee, Fiona Gardner, motivated you to always have a pep in your step as you march towards your vision.

You know what? Forget the skies and the seas. The most beautiful sight of the day was how you were able to make everything come together like this. Yessir, just you, the waters, and the salty breeze of wind whistling comfortably over your skin.

You nearly lull into a peaceful snooze as you lay back on your towel and allow the warmth of the hot sand soothe your body, nestling you in sensations that you don't want to escape. The reverie of your rested mind is one of idle peace as you can almost feel yourself soaring on a bed of clouds...

Clouds which immediately break apart and plummet you back to reality as you feel a tiny wave of sand suddenly prick against your shoulder. You twitch at the itchy pang of dust and gravel, but you don't think of it as anything but happenstance.

That is, until it happens again.

You open your eyes, intent on seeing what the source of the disturbance is. Your guess is that couple of adorable kids found a spot next to you and were digging up a trench for their sandcastle. So, you turn your head to the side of the direction of the kicked sand to take a look at their craftsmanship.

But once again, the unexpected drops on you, this time like a cartoonishly-heavy anvil that leaves your nearly tongue hanging out of your open mouth and your eyes bugging out of your skull.

You're met by a dainty pair of feet that have the most titillating curves you've ever seen, and you already know they belong to a goddess—the groove between the heel and ankle is magnetic, earning the desire for your fingers to tenderly smooth over the plane of skin and bone. The pink-painted toes only top off the splendor.

Every moral fiber was long thrown out the window, and you're too compelled to slowly look up through a hypnotic daze to be ashamed of yourself.

Your gaze trails from her tootsies up to her slender shins, and you can still see and appreciate the calves. Next come the seemingly endless miles of her thighs and the pink bikini piece they run into—even in the muck of your deep stasis, you feel your cheeks burn and the bulge in your swimming trunks throb.

The subtle muscles in her tummy comes next, and you can see yourself giving it kisses—from the waistline of her bikini all the way up to...to...

_O-oh my._

Even though her crossed arms somewhat cover them up, the bounty of her fabric-covered chest can't escape you. The pink of her top blends together beautifully with the peachy cream of her flawless skin. And as if that wasn't that enough, she has shoulder-length blonde hair that sways with the wind.

Still, even with all of this in front of you, you're not ensnared enough to ignore the north of her neck.

...

But when you get a good look at her face, you almost wish you were.

It's just as gorgeous as everything else about her figure, but the shock of her frown, her squinty eyes, and the ferocity of her judgmental stare petrifies you out of your horndog stupor and instantly makes you aware of the incriminating culprit in your trunks.

The rest of your body is almost as stiff—you can still shiver from dread as she scrutinizes you and keeps her intentions and the reasons for her irritation out of your hands. You're hers to judge and deal with as she sees fit, and you can't help but succumb to your captivity.

After all, she probably wouldn't be this gosh darn mad at you if you weren't such a pervert!

The young woman's blue eyes start to fade a little as the fire in her glare dies and she uncrosses her arms. Despite everything, you still feel yourself stirring and aching as practically everything from her front is in full view.

"About time I got your attention. You'll do," she says with a bored look and a flip of her hair. "Today's your lucky day. Come with me."

You try to process her words into actions, but you stumble before you can even begin. And just as you guess, she grits her teeth in a sharp-toothed frown as she growls from your lack of response.

"Are you deaf?!" she snaps. "Get up and let's go!"

Her tone makes you scramble to your feet, but the decision comes at a cost—your cock hasn't swelled down yet, so its presence is evident as it presses flat against your lower belly. The only good part about her being so angry with you (for reasons that you're too shook up to ask) is that she's too focused on grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you off with her to notice.

You trail behind her in the most embarrassment way possible—you're used to getting bossed around by women while you're on the clock but not with your boner saluting the onlooking passerby that make you more and more self-conscious of your predicament.

You feel their glances and hear their snickers, and you can't blame the Sun for your cheeks getting hotter.

* * *

The humiliation comes to a merciful end after about three minutes of your...er, kidnapping.

You both arrive somewhere in the middle of the beach, one of the more crowded areas. In front of you is a large white towel and you guess that this is where your captor was resting before she decided to storm over to you for...some reason. Speaking of her, she lets her iron grip go, and you immediately relish in the sweet release.

She points her pretty finger to the towel. "Sit."

You don't second guess her as you hurriedly take a seat right on the edge of it.

"Not there. _I_ get the towel. _You_ get the sand."

Aaaaaaand sand, it is!

You scoot off and park in the simmering, almost skin-blistering hot sand without complaint while she takes the spot that you had before. She makes it even easier not to gripe because she's so close to you, the proximity a force powerful enough to make your insides churn from tingling ripples.

Besides bewitching you—her anger aside—she's not done pointing, either.

"See... _him_?" she seethes through a hiss.

You follow the direction of her scorn and finger...

And see a balding, fat guy in a several-sizes-too-small red speedo getting chased by an angry horde of bikini-clad women. You don't even wanna know how that story came about.

But in the end, it's a misjudgment. You don't have to say anything for her to know that you messed up.

"Ugh! Not _him_ , you numbskull! You think I'd be caught dead with that weirdo?!"

Before you can do the polite thing and apologize, she has your body in another grip as her slender fingers grasp your chin and force your head to swivel a few paces to your left.

She repeats herself with more intensity. " _Hiiiiiiim_."

For a moment, all you can see are a bunch of laughing ladies playing volleyball. You hurry to try and find " _h_ _iiiiiiim"_ before you get another earful of harsh rebuke. Within a second, you can see that three of them have gathered around someone. You train your eyes for a better look, and find a young man with short blonde hair, rocking a pair of green swimming trunks and a built, lithe frame fit for the envy of men.

Including yourself, to your shame.

You don't think you're a slouch, but it's hard to find any pride when you have to stack yourself up to someone of that stature. No wonder he seemed to be the center of attention of all of those attractive women.

"That's Winston," she explains, "my now _ex_ -boyfriend. He had the gall to want to cancel his plans for us to go to Venice to save money, so he chooses _this_ shithole for one of our vacation spots. You'd think that the least he can do is give his Lola-dearest a foot rub when she asks him, right?"

She lets go your chin once she turns your head back to face her and her bitter glower.

"But noooooooo! A couple sluts stroll by and ask him to play volleyball with them! And you know what he does?!"

You're smart enough to figure out without asking, but you do it to placate her _and_ because you truly pity her situation. At least, a little, anyway.

"That two-timer runs off with them and thinks it's okay to get his arms felt up by those floozies! Can you believe him?! Where does he get off thinking that that's okay?!"

You can only offer a timid little shrug, too embarrassed about the looks you get from nearby strangers to put your all into the gesture.

"I know, right?! He thinks he can date Lola Loud and get away with treating her like a side dish! I think not!"

What comes next is almost as unnerving as her fury—those sharp teeth come back into play as her dainty lips peels into a wide grin.

"And that's where you come in. We're both gonna make him suffer," she declares. "You're gonna take his place."

You know the story well enough to know what she means, and it gets your heart racing as your hands shake.

Her terrifying grin morphs into a prettier but just as sinister smirk. "Only you're not just gonna go at my feet. Oh no. _Everything's_ on the playing field."

The prospect of "everything" makes your sinful impulses hope that she said that in the most literal sense, but she probably only means everything that's not covered. Your sensibilities quickly take the reins and force you to try and come up with a reason that this shouldn't happen.

Even if you were okay with this really mean scheme, you still couldn't see yourself feeling up "Lola-dearest" in front of potential gawkers, who've already given you enough grief for today.

...

Man, but she’s still _suuuuuuuper_ hot and-

You shake your head to drive out the temptation and ask her why she wants you out of the hundreds of beachgoers.

"Eh, you're handsome enough for him to get really jealous."

You'd be flattered if you weren't trying to dig out from between a rock and a hard place. Instead, you go for another excuse, this time through wondering what prompted her to ask for a full body rubdown.

She cackles. "That's part of the reason why you get to touch everything. He can't play out there forever, and you'll probably be _way_ past my feet by the time he comes back. It'll be perfect."

She has every possible way out of this boarded up with her impeccable planning, leaving you at the mercy of your libido. You try to struggle and fight it, and you come up with nothing but a blank stare and stuttering to call this vixen off.

She cackles again and gets on all fours, facing you with batting eyes—they're the only things keeping you from gazing down at the exposed view of the top of her bust.

"Awww, what's the matter? Don't tell me you don't want to. If you think you can use that card, you should've kept your boner under control when I came over."

Your face flushes guiltily. You've been exposed, and sure enough, your dick springs back to life to testify to her observations. She gives it a quick look before she takes her time and shuffles backwards, propping herself up on her elbows.

Her eyes command you to come hither, and you do so under her spell as you crawl over to her side.

Her smug smile doesn't leave her as she orders, with one eye open, "Now then, get to it. We don't have all day."

Even though you're trembling as you give a nod and slowly crawl over to her feet, as if you _reaaaaally_ don't want to do this, you can't deny that her attitude and cunning is tugging at your cock. She has you all figured out, and in a way...it liberates you from responsibility.

Oh, _you're_ not making any indecent moves on her. _She's_ the one calling the shots, and you're just a puppet that dances to her whims.

And when you finally arrive where you're intended, your legs crossed underneath yourself, she seems to know it too as her lone open eye gives you a sassy little wink before slipping shut.

With no more hesitation, you delicately grasp her left foot and pull it into your lap—you mind your placement and prevent her heel from brushing against your erection. Her toes wiggle as she hums contently.

You gravitate towards the groove between heel and ankle, grazing your thumb up and down with large strokes while your other hand grips her heel. Your motions and slow and tender, though, as you want to memorize every electrifying touch and take sweet satisfaction in taming such a woman with nothing more than your hands.

Her ankles become your next target as your fingers roll around and over the joint, grazing and plucking. Meanwhile, her heel is slowly getting kneaded. You hear her coo with shuddering spasms, and you look up just in time to see her back arch.

The heel of your palm grinds up and down the bridge while the arch gets the attention of your other hand—you test her skin with your grazing fingernails, and it gets her to buck her hips up as another moan passes from her lips.

By the time you get to the knuckles of her toes and the balls of her feet, she hasn't let up on showing approval with her sighs and trembling smile. The few times your eyes have departed from your work to bare witness to her euphoria remind you why this is worth the initial worry.

The crevices between her toes get worked over as your fingers slip between them to slide in and out of and knead at your discretion. Then, you play the ball below her toes, making sure that each press of your palm makes her shudder.

And that's only with one foot.

You make sure the other one isn't left out and get to work on that one with the same mischievous patterns. You feel ten feet taller from making such a pretty lady writhe and sigh in bliss, but you don't manifest any arrogance through your words when you ask her if she's enjoying herself.

"Y-yep," she stammers with a heightened voice. "Man, do I know how to pick 'em or wh-"

Her sentence gets broken with a moan as you trace the bones along her instep with your fingers. You hold back a chuckle in fear of getting reprimanded for getting cocky—you'd really hate to ruin such a good thing.

Speaking of not making poor judgments, you sense that her foot massage is coming to a close, and that leaves you to decide where to go from here. After all, she _did_ say "everything".

So, once you're finished rolling her pinky toe around your fingers, you know your next move. You gingerly let her feet out of your lap despite her grumble of complaint.

The strain of your pulsing cock aches as you shuffle over to her head on all fours, lift it up, and lay it across your folded legs. She hardly flinches along the way but she opens one eye to question, without speaking, what you plan on doing next.

She gets an obvious jolt up her spine as she jerks from your fingertips rubbing her forehead, making passes over and between her knitted eyebrows. Her eyes slip closed again as you make firm circles along her temples as your hands travel down the sides of her neck, eventually settling on kneading her shoulders.

Then, it's a delicate trace of her collarbone and throat with your fingers, minding not to accidentally graze her breasts.

Even though she said that "everything" was at play.

You decide not to push your luck and take your fingers into her head to weave through her thick hair and rub her scalp with your fingertips.

" _Mmmmm~_ ," she hums with just enough bliss to know that she'll likely want your hands to remain there for a little while longer.

Not that you needed her help.

Whether she knows it or not, the back of her head's been pushing against your groin as she rolls into you with her swaying. It's enough to make you a little on the edge as you quickly comb the beach, looking out for any nearby voyeurs.

Your skin pricks with tension when you catch a few sideway glances accompanied by knowing smirks, but you soon fall back into the line of duty, forgetting about any misgivings as you skim your fingers behind her ears.

You watch as a tremor shakes from her shoulders and down to her legs, evident from the way she shakes. From there, it's soft circles into her shoulders again before your hands squeeze up and down the goose-pimpled flesh of her upper arms.

Her flushed face and quivering lips keep your focus for a while, forging the thoughts of drawing out those same expressions of gratification in more...intimate territory. The most you feel you can do for now is savor your knuckles "accidentally" bumping against the side of her bosom with each travel of your kneading hands.

You move on to her belly and use one hand to press flat against her abs before making slow, clockwise rotations. Her breath catches before you can hear another beautiful sigh, but her fluttering eyes make up for it.

A minute of silence passes before you have in mind how you should please her, and you pull your hand away as you ask for to flip over. Wordlessly, she shimmies off your lap but keeps herself on the towel.

"You...do it," she says almost breathlessly.

You realize what you'll have to do, and you gulp as you prepare to touch the skin of her hips. You go to her side and shake the nervous energy from your trembling hands as you bring them forward, the awkward angle making you stretch out one of your arms to make contact with the farthest side of her body.

Even with the fabric of her bottoms getting in the way, the feel of her hips feel divine in your grasp. It can't last forever, though, and you turn her over as she moves along with the motion of your hands.

She finally flips around entirely, resting her head underneath her arms...

And you can feel your soul getting dragged out of its body.

You've been ogling her front the whole time you've known her, but she as just as much to offer you from behind.

You get an eyeful of her slender back and the ridges of her shoulder blades making the perfect slope for your fingers to push into. The curve of her back is elegantly shaped, giving place to only one tiny imperfection in the form of a few brown speckles. Most of all, the humps of her butt are wide, plump, and tightly secured beneath her bottoms, making for a temping shape to slowly dig your fingers into.

But it was her back that you had in mind if ravishing, so you get to that as soon as you take care of an important detail—boldly, you unclasp the strap of her top, letting the strings fall to her sides. You shamelessly check out the sideboob, despite her watching you the whole time.

She smirks and you shiver.

"Well?" she asks impatiently, prodding you to take action with haste.

Doing so puts you in an awkward position as you throw a leg over her hips and settle along her rear. You both gasp sharply as you both feel it—her cheeks hug your bulge, pushing against it as you squirm on top of her. You learn forward to touch her shoulder blades, and you grit your teeth as the torturous friction against your cock almost gets you to burst.

You do your best not to let yourself rock against her as you attend to your target with soft sweeps of your thumbs, but about ten seconds into the massage makes your diligence futile—she's letting out low pants as she bucks and rolls against your erection, and you're too out of breath and horny to care if she's doing it on purpose.

The stakes are way higher now, and you know it. You can't pass this off as a publicly acceptable and sure enough, you look up to find that more than a dozen beachgoers have you in their sights, some watching with obvious jealousy on their faces while others look on in disgust—one mother shoots you a dirty look as she shields her gawking son's eyes from your brazenness.

But soon, the weight of their gazes and judgment instantly become... dare say, even _arousing_.

You have the pleasure of the beautiful creature who saw you fit to indulge her and drive her to wailing in ecstasy and grinding her curves against you for all the world to see.

If they wanted a show, they'd get one.

You shoot a smirk of your own out to your captive audience and thrust your hips down as soon as she bucks. She moans again, louder and longer and you follow suit with one of your own. Your arms shudder as your gripped shaft rides her again, pushing down with more force than she's grinding into you.

Your tempo and fervor eventually drowns hers out, and you force her into inactivity. She's taking everything now, from the strokes of your fingertips up and down her spine to the tip of your clothed cock pushing in and out of the valley of her butt.

Her eye flutters open, and she squeals, "H-harder."

Your mushed-up brain can't tell which part of you she wants more of, so you kick it up a notch on both ends. Your hands are pushing against her back with more drive while you outright hump her with more vigorous pelvic thrusts.

You can tell that you've both pretended to forget about Winifred or whatever his name is. Neither of you have brought him up once, and that's just fine with you. It's just you, her, and the gathering crowd of dozens who've drawn near to see you ravage her like she's your mate.

You shut your eyes to get even more lost in the devilish friction—even though you can't see her, you can imagine her writhing form, tousled hair, and reddened face in your mind's eye.

Before you know it, your hands have left her back and are placed on either side of her head as you open your eyes. You lean down and leave a path of kisses against her cheek and neck. Her trembling breath can only inspire your boldness through her mewls and coos, her body undoubtedly just as overheated as yours.

And you don't know it yet, but you both think of the same thing that'll quench that heat.

Before you can send her to the heavens and back with another push, she swiftly spins around and catches you off guard by throwing her arms around your neck while her strong legs wrap around your waist. Both pairs of appendages force you towards her, your lips melding into hers.

You fall into place with her intensity, your kiss too fast to completely savor but too passionate to find unsatisfying. While you're quick to pry her mouth open with your tongue and tease her insides with sweeps and prods of your tongue, she's quick to grab the waistband of your swimming trunks.

She starts tugging them down, and she moans when her fingers brush your butt as they slip past it and stop at the bottom of your quads. You make sure to take care of her bottom piece of swimwear, gripping it tightly and pulling it down until you stop below your knees.

She makes a little distance from your body as she nudges back—her top falls away as she pushes it aside and grabs onto your neck again. Her perky nipples and breasts send your heart racing when they mold into your torso. She falls onto her back, taking you with her as you lean over her on your knees.

You break the kiss for air and get back into it after a three second reprieve. You look up and give another look to the faceless strangers that look on with indescribable emotion—it's defiance, showing them how comfortable you are in your skin and how at ease you'll be once you're in _her_ skin.

Without a thought tossed into more foreplay, you both bring your hips together again, and you shudder as the slick, wet heat of her entrance smolders your groin. You shuffle into position, and the first inch of you melts into her as it slides past her lips.

She cries out into your mouth and roughly drags her nails down your back but encourages you to keep going as she jostles forward.

Another inch of you trembles through, past her swollen lips and further into the embrace of the smoldering wet heat and the mind-numbing ridges of her inner walls. You finally make your full acquaintance, securely ensnared inside her heady furnace.

Your swiveling hips make for the best corkscrew drives, and she loudly agrees with every moan she makes. The squelching of your lovemaking is music to your ears, and the slapping of your thighs against hers drowns out the murmuring of your audience.

You can feel their shadows hovering over you, much like you can feel your sanity crumbling as the presence of your climax is slowly creeping up on you with the threat of barreling through at any moment. You don't heed to the warning, not fussing about making this experience last but rather taking all that you can in a short burst.

She doesn't complain about your impatience and meets every thrust with a vigorous one of her own.

The spasms against your cock spell the end for you soon, so you try and make every motion count and break the kiss to latch onto her neck—you want to feel her pulse against your lips and hear her scream.

...

And she does, while yours is muffled by her sweaty skin. The spark of your climax makes you both gush out, the slick secretions splashing against your uglies and the towel underneath you. The taste of her neck is calming, the descent of your high not as draining as it probably could be.

You don't ease out of her, letting your limping cock shrink and spurt the little seed you have left. Her legs unwrap from you and fall at your sides while her arms untangle from your body to lay outstretched as she gasps for air. All the while, her hazy stare bores holes into you but it's her lazy, sultry grin that keeps your undivided attention.

Was she giving you permission to explore her "everything" again? And if she did, what angle would she want you to approach her?

Before you can ask, you hear gruff throat clearing from up top. You look up...

And feel just about every muscle in your body wobble in panic and the color of of your flushed skin blanch. There stood a lifeguard, glaring at the both of you through his black sunglasses while pointing in a direction ahead of you.

The direction of the beach's exit.

* * *

You have the keys to your Chevy Malibu in one hand a perplexing turn of events in the other. There's not much to do at a beach you've been barred for life from except head to the nearby parking lot and leave. And after chucking your stuff in the trunk, that's what you're aiming to do.

The thing is, Lola went with you and now stands by your side, as if she's waiting expectantly for you to get inside and...see you off? You didn't know what to make of it when she first started following you, and her present irritation—much like the brand she had after getting kicked out—deterred you from annoying her.

But...screw it. You had the moxie to have sex in public (you dread what your mother will think when she hears about this on the news), so doing something like that shouldn't be too hard to accomplish.

Once you do, she just rolls her eyes at you.

"Isn't it obvious? We're finishing what we started. Winston can have those skanks. I've got a presidential suite at the local hotel with our names on it." She titillates you with a low chuckle and a sly grin. "No stupid lifeguards to get in the way there."

The prospect of another round gets you into your car before you know it. Once your passenger is secure in her seat, you're quick to try and take off...

But you don't. It suddenly dawns on you what you're getting into, and you need closure before you can go anywhere. You face Lola and ask her what this makes the both of you.

And just like the first time she saw you, she gives you a scrutinizing glance before she has an answer for you.

"You're in the 'plaything' territory for now. You're a good fuck, but I need to see what you're all about before I can start calling you my boyfriend." She grimaces as she stares sadly out the window. "I'm not making that mistake again."

You nod curtly. That's fair. _More_ than fair, in fact. If you were being honest with yourself, that was where you saw her, too. She didn't have the temperament of someone who could be controlled so easily, and despite her scary temper, you could respect that.

And she was anything but a bore—even when you were the target of her sharp tongue, she walks had something interesting to think about. It wasn't enough to make the word "girlfriend" sound right to you just yet, but this was a start.

With that, you take off and let the promise of another romp keep your spirits lifted. Lola helps by saying that she'll introduce you to a set of twins that should spice up your evening—you're not into wearing jewelry, but something tells you that you'll do just fine with cuffs around your wrists.


End file.
